


What's In A Name?

by Padfoots_Pawprint



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: "mild" flirting, College AU, M/M, Not Supernatural, based on a true-ish story, keith and lance, klance, my new and beautiful sons, reappearing stranger, suspicious keith, they belong together forever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 12:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8445553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Padfoots_Pawprint/pseuds/Padfoots_Pawprint
Summary: One morning at 7:30, after Keith's daily work-out, he meets the same guy in the caf. At first he thought it was just a fluke. What guy looks ready to go to class so early? But then they seem to meet over and over again, and this stranger seems to really know Keith.Who is he? Why does he knows about Keith? And why won't Shiro leave him alone? He does NOT have a crush.





	

****Keith had never dreaded his morning exercises. Doing runs in the dawn light or weights in his residence's gym was something he could do with his eyes closed. The feeling of pushing himself, of knowing that he was getting stronger, was a reward in and of itself.  No, Keith had never dreaded his blissfully quiet morning exercises.

Not until the ghost boy showed up.

Technically, the other boy wasn't a ghost. He didn't seem like a strange specter or a semi-transparent creature at all. But that's what Keith had been calling him in his head for months now, so he was going to stick with it.

The first time he met the ghost boy, he'd just gotten back from a morning run. Tired and half-asleep, Keith had slumped into his usual seat in the cafeteria as he always did at 7:30. And then, he heard it; a voice that, though he hadn’t known it at the time, would grow to haunt him. “Morning, Keith.”

“Morning,” he'd said reflexively and looked up in time to see the other boy pass by him, cutting through the cafeteria aisle and out the door. It happened so fluidly, so quickly, that Keith was inclined to believe he was hallucinating. Who would be headed for class an hour early equipped with a duffel bag and their knapsack? He'd have thought more on it at the time had not the the smell of breakfast distracted him. By the time he sat down to eat, he had completely forgotten the exchange and spent all day in blissful ignorance.

It was not meant to last. Every weekday after that, at exactly 7:30, he would be approached by the same boy. And, after breakfast, Keith's sleep-addled brain would wipe the encounter from his mind. Occasionally, someone would mention something about running or greetings and he would be reminded of the strange boy that knew his name.

“What did he look like?” Shiro had asked the first time Keith remembered the ghost boy in public.

“Brown hair?” Keith had supplied, because he still hadn't managed to remember any of the other boy's features.

“That's generic,” Shiro had laughed.

It was in this way that Keith's mild obsession with the boy had begun. If there was one thing that guaranteed Keith’s absolute fixation, it was the prospect of a mystery, one that he was determined to solve. The facts, as few as they were, seemed as clear as crystal to someone like Keith. Keith had never socialized much with anyone at his residence besides Shiro. He could recognize all of their faces, but none of them matched that of the ghost boy which only infuriated him further. Their acquaintance couldn’t be due to living in the same building. Pressing further, the ghost boy was also absent in every one of Keith's classes. They seemingly had no link whatsoever. It was as if he was ghost that only Keith could see; a tan creature that flitted in and out of nearly empty cafeterias and made short, light conversations with whomever saw him.

After almost a month and a half of their quick morning meetings, Keith decided to inquire after him. He didn’t know why he hadn’t asked about him earlier because it made sense that perhaps a _friend_  of someone living in his building could know his name. Luckily for him, others had seen the boy cut through their cafeteria before. The validation alone strengthened Keith’s resolve to find out who the boy was. Unfortunately... “Pretty friendly guy,” Matt Holt had said, “but I don't even know him.”

“Not even his name?”

“Nope. He stops by for a chat and then leaves. A little weird, but he's super easy to talk to.”

Keith swallowed the information curiously, before adding, “Did he know your name too?”

“Actually, yeah.” Matt scratched his he had. “Never really thought to ask for his name.”

“How is that even possible?” Perhaps it came off a bit aggressively because in an instant, Matt was defensive and the words that fell resonated with Keith long after they’d been spoken.

“Hey, it's not my problem. You're the one that's hung up.”

He was right, of course. Keith _was_ hung up on the nameless stranger. He'd tried to let it go; of course he'd tried. It was just that he hadn't been successful with it. At all.

Keith was frustrated that the stranger eluded him every other hour of the day. After the early morning comments, he was gone. He appeared to the others at random times, but for Keith, the ghost boy was always consistent: 7:30 in the cafeteria. It didn’t help matters that whenever they did speak, Keith’s questions always got washed away by the rush of morning energy the other boy would exude. The flow of conversation always seemed to work for one and not the other.

Now, he awoke with a curious paranoia that never seemed to end. Keith went through his exercises with a sense of dread, but never allowed it to stall him. If anything it pushed him forward, half-eager and half-afraid to speak to the boy he knew nothing about but seemed to know everything about him.

“Morning, Keith. Was Professor Coran's last test hard or what?” The ghost boy was strolling up to him with that same stupid smirk. A little too friendly.

“It was rough, but not impossible.”

“Trying to downplay it? Makes sense.” He shrugged and sidled up to him, “Although how that mullet stays looking both out of style and completely flawless is beyond reason or logic.”

“Thank you?”

The boy Keith had unaffectionately called a ghost boy leaned against the table. “You sure take all that exercise seriously. Why aren't you on any of the sports teams? We could seriously use that kind of speed.”

“Are you watching me when I exercise?”

“No,” he replied quickly, glancing away from Keith. “I happen to see you there sometimes. The track is next to the swimming pool in the rec centre, you know?”

Swimming pool? “Do you-?”

“How's Shiro doing, by the way?” the ghost boy cut in. “I hear his muscular therapy is going much better.”

“Yeah, he's recovering well enough. But how-”

“Well, gotta get to class. Bye Keith.”

Keith waited until the ghost boy had disappeared through the doors before resting his head on a polished white table. He'd let things go at the ghost boy's pace again. He'd never get his name out of him now after almost four consecutive months of assuming to know him. “Damn it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Keith! You're looking extra sweaty this morning,” said the stranger once Keith had entered the caf.

“I feel like that’s been your worst opening line so far.” Keith said. To anyone else, it appeared as thought Keith and the strange boy were old friends, with their conversations and morning banter. Sometimes, it even felt as thought that were true. However, Keith was sure to remind himself (and anybody who asked) that he was putting up with the boy to learn his name and figure out what connection had led the ghost boy to him in the first place. There were more questions that plagued Keith, of course: Why take this route? Why take the route so early? Why talk to him when _clearly_  Keith displayed confusion on certain topics? “And why the hell do you care if I’m sweaty?”

He smirked. “Wouldn't _you_ like to know?”

“No, it's okay. You probably saw me running on the track or something this morning.”

He tried not to look too expectant, wanting the stranger to give himself away. The other boy's face was very expressive, he'd learned.

“Maybe.” he said grinning. “Totally smoked you in the track, by the way.”

“You were there yesterday?” he choked out. Keith tried to think back to his sleep drunk run yesterday morning. _Had_ there been other people there? Keith cursed his isolated nature. Being more observant would have served him well in discovering his stranger's identity.

“No, but I totally would have beat you.” He tightened the straps on his backpack, a sign that he was finished speaking, and began to walk past.

“Wait.” He didn’t know what possessed him to do it. Maybe the boy _was_  a ghost after all, Keith thought wildly, but he instinctively grabbed out, his hand wrapping around the other boy's wrist. It was thinner than he thought it would be; and softer too. “You..”

He turned to look at Keith, slow and smooth and deliberate. “Yes, _Keith_?”

Keith’s eyebrow twitched. Any question he’d intended to ask immediately dissipated. The knowing glint in the other boy's eyes -a rich, sea blue that he hadn't expected at all- let him know that he was aware Keith didn't recognize or remember him. The other boy had so much information about Keith, as if they'd been in all the same classes, and yet, Keith couldn't remember seeing him anywhere. This blue eyed boy had the advantage. _This_  was no accident, Keith realized. In any other person, coming up to someone who didn’t remember you could be considered a sign of confusion, perhaps you’d be too oblivious to see that they didn’t remember you. But this? The ghost boy was taunting him, _teasing_  him, and knew full well that Keith was clueless. This alone was a challenge he'd set for Keith. Could Keith even come close to finding out who he actually was?

Keith, for the life of him, knew that he shouldn’t accept such a challenge; that it was childish and petty and really not worth his time. But if it would wipe that smug look off his face, then Keith was 100% interested.

With new purpose, Keith tugged the boy closer to him. He probably stared longer than necessary but Keith was determined to memorize as many features as he could. The shade of his skin, the bridge of his nose, the vibrant blue of his pupils.  He wasn't taking art classes for nothing.

Was he embarrassed? Yes. But so was the blue boy, it seemed. Keith could see red crawling across his tan cheeks.

“Wha-What are you doing?”

Keith smirked. Knowing just what the challenge was gave him more confidence than before. “All bark and no bite?”

The boy flushed more as if Keith's comment ran a little bit too true. Then, a sly smile worked its way onto the ghost boy's face. “Guess that just means you like what you see.”

Keith let go of his wrist sharply and the ghost boy chuckled. “Gotta get to class. See you.”

He strode out and Keith scrambled for his sketchbook. With the image fresh in his mind, he started to sketch. Any boy that wandered into the cafeteria around 8:00 was privy to the sight of Keith sketching away at a table whilst muttering a series of obscenities under his breath. To everyone else he appeared to be very angry and only stopped when Shiro placed a plate of food in front of him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Keith's sketch seemed to mock him. After venting to Shiro at length about his morning stranger and spending the rest of his day in a frustrated mood, Keith was left with the rough look of the other boy staring up at him from his sketchbook. It could have been mistaken as a mug shot if Keith hadn’t drawn the boy smiling or blushing or in an all around good mood. Half of Keith wanted to throw darts at the picture. At the same time, it was a clue to finding out who exactly the stranger was.

He ran a hand through his hair and placed his blue pencils back. Although the entire sketch was in blue, the colour of his stranger's eyes came back almost as jovial and teasing as the original. It gave Keith a funny feeling in his chest. 

Keith resisted the urge to shut the book and burn it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Is it that guy again?” Shiro asked as he took his regular seat across from Keith. Noonday sun illuminated the tables in the cafeteria, and made the pale floors almost a blinding white. 

“He's so cocky,” Keith blurted out. “I bet you Red that he knows that I don't know his name and he’s making fun of me.”

“Betting your motorcycle isn't going to help you any,” Shiro said patiently. “Why don't you just _ask_ for his name?”

“I can't.” Keith grumbled, moving around the lettuce in his plate. “It's the same as admitting defeat. He's challenging me, Shiro. If he knows that I don't remember him and I _admit_ it, he'll hold it over my head for the rest of my life. What if he's someone I used to be friends with in elementary school?”

“Is he?”

“No. But he could have been. He knows things about me that only a friend would know.”

“And you'd feel guilty for forgetting.” Shiro nodded sympathetically as he began to grasp Keith's distress.

“I'm not heartless,” grumped Keith.

“I'm impressed by this stranger,” laughed Shiro. “He's got you all worried. I think he's starting to grow on you.”

Keith nearly choked on his salad. “Grow on me? You make it sound affectionate. As if I _like_  him?” Shiro nodded with a smile on his face. “Shiro, there's a difference between being compassionate and liking someone.”

“Of course, but even you have to admit that Matt was right. You're very... _conscious_ of him.”

“Because I'm curious!”

“And you talk about him a lot.”

“I'm _venting_! Didn't you say you'd let me vent to you?”

Shiro put his hands up in playful surrender. “I'm just saying that you’re giving him a lot of attention. Even if he wasn't your friend before, it's clear that you won't be forgetting about him anytime soon. You _like_  him, platonically or otherwise.”

Any words died in Keith's throat. His tolerance for the ghost boy had exponentially increased since he'd met him all those months ago. They'd spoken nearly every day without fault. Though each conversation was short, the back and forth had become almost second nature to Keith.

“Keith! You're here and it's actually lunch time. I've been thinking that you just ran on fruit and oatmeal, but you eat actual food.”

Keith kept his eyes decidedly away from him. Leave it to the ghost boy to appear just as Keith was talking about him. “Of course I do,” he said. “I don't live exclusively on energy bars and coffee like you do.”

“Hey!” he said indignantly, but even Keith could tell he was being playful.

“You get along well together.” Shiro said and Keith looked up to see Shiro trying to muffle his laughter.

“Us?”

“I don't know,” said the ghost boy slowly. “Keith is kind of giant, prickly cactus. Not that I mind of course.” He flashed Keith a grin. “He's always been like that.”

Keith looked at Shiro meaningfully. Another insinuation, another clue about the boy, but Shiro's eyes were still up.

“It's nice to see you again. I didn't realize you were the one Keith's been talking about.”

Keith looked at Shiro in horror. See you _again_?

“He talks about me?” The boy beamed at Keith and ruffled his hair. “Thanks, mullet. I didn't know you cared.”

“I don't.”

The boy wearing something different today: his jacket and blue shirt was now an all black ensemble, like he was going out somewhere. Keith knew he shouldn't be curious. Once hooked on an idea, it was hard to get him to stop thinking of it or, in this case, who the boy was.

“Headed to work?”

“Yeah. Hunk needs a break before Pidge kills herself. She doesn't handle a hungry Hunk well.”

“And you do?” Keith shot the question back like it was second nature. The stranger had a habit of drawing out more than Keith wanted to give and in the last few months, he'd gotten accustomed to it. Shiro, in comparison, eyed the two of them with more knowing his eyes than Keith felt comfortable with.

“Of course I am. You should drop by sometime. You don't come by as often as you used to.”

Keith froze in his seat as the ghost boy rambled to Shiro about something work related, inquiring after Shiro's sports injury and speaking just a jovially as he did with Keith. Although devoid of any teasing that Keith seemed to get, the conversation with Shiro was bright and easy.

Once he'd left, Keith found himself standing up and packing the remains of his lunch.

”Why the rush, Keith?”

“That was him!” he hissed. “That's the guy I keep seeing in the morning.”

“I figured.” Shiro grinned.

“And you _know_ him?”

“Brown hair, blue eyes, and enough confidence to fill an ocean? Yeah, I know him. Matt's sister works with him and the pair of them are good friends. He's easy to talk to.”

“You never told me that!”

“I didn’t realize it was him until I saw your reaction to him today.

“So that means you know his name?”

“I thought you wanted to figure it out yourself.” Shiro looked at Keith over his folded hands “You did accept his challenge. Isn't it what you said?” Keith was quiet and the uncomfortable feeling he'd felt when the ghost boy had spoken to Shiro with overt familiarity returned. “Is there something wrong?” asked Shiro, sensing the change in Keith instantly.

He shook his head and excused himself. 

By the time he'd gotten to his dorm room, he felt a little tired. Keith lay down, feelings a haphazard mess. Him? _Like_ the stranger that smelled of coffee and sea salt? The one with the cocksure grin and endless quips? The ghost boy that had stuck to his thoughts stubbornly with no sign of leaving? “Impossible,” Keith scoffed into his pillow and did his best to ignore the gnawing feeling in chest that told him to take a second look at the gorgeous blue sketch sitting on his desk that could only have been made with affection in mind. 

 

* * *

It took Keith about two and a half days to cave. His blue eyed stranger had left just enough crumbs for Keith to follow and he did as he'd been baited, ever cautious. Matt said he was obsessed. Shiro thought he had a crush on the guy. Keith thought he knew himself, but conspiracy theory or not, he had to admit that the guy was attractive. No amount of annoying comments could change that. Maybe he wasn't as conventional as guys like Shiro; he was bit tall and thinner than most, but Keith couldn't deny that he found him... aesthetically pleasing. It was a better omission than saying he was cute or hot or some variation of the two.

Keith's phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Shiro, wondering if Keith had walked in yet or if he was still outside. He stepped into the shop at the reminder, and felt a distinct atmosphere shift. It was mid March, but the shop was as warm as early summer. The scent of coffee clung to everything. No customers looked up at his entrance, and a line obscured him from the view of those in the back. Patient and a little nervous, Keith waited in line. He could hear people calling out orders and could hear the ghost boy, their voice ringing clear among the shop's low buzz. Just knowing that he was moments away to solving the only real mystery he'd investigated for months was quite exciting in its own right. The line moved forward and Keith kept his arms folded firmly over his chest. By the time he ordered, he could hear the voice of his now familiar stranger as if it had been that very morning. He could hear every inflection, every playful lilt in his comments to other customers and his fellow workers. He wondered if the the ghost boy teased them the same as he teased Keith and nearly balked at what he deemed jealousy. God, Shiro _was_ right.

He took the realization well. There was no fireworks, no grand ‘moment of truth’ discovery. Instead, Keith swiped a tired hand over his face and ordered a tea when the cashier prompted him appropriately. He tapped his foot as he waited, more annoyed with his feelings than surprised by them. The afternoon bustle mixed with his jagged heartbeat and Keith could see the brown haired boy make his drink. He looked good in general. To see him in his uniform was even better them he anticipated.

The boy turned, cup tilted to read the name scrawled on the side and froze as he saw Keith waiting.

“You're here?” he choked out.

The look he was getting was a mix of shock and nervousness.

For half a moment, Keith wondered if he'd made a mistake in coming. But then the boy seemed to recover and rushed to see him. “Keith!”

“That's me.”

“You came!!”

“I wanted tea,” he said as casually as possible. He was leaning on the counter, chin propped up on a fist that conveniently blocked his name tag. “Can I have it?”

He eyed Keith carefully before a smirk swiftly morphed onto his face. Keith swallowed hard.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“How nice you ask for it!”

“You realized that you're just supposed to give me the cup right?”

“Yeah, but this is more fun.” He was still grinning. “So what'll it be, mullet?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Don't you have other customers to attend to?”

“None that are more important than you right now. So what'll it be?”

Keith's tea was still being held captive. The name tag was still obscured and Keith bet that he'd have to outsmart the boy to get the name.

“Can I get my tea please?” He gestured for Keith to continue, and he frowned. “What?”

“You've got to say my name too,” he said with all his usual mischief. Keith glared at him before shrugging and taking a couple steps away.

“Bye then.”

“But Keith-” Keith swiveled quickly when he felt a hand on his shoulder to stop him. The other boy was stretched over the counter in an attempt to pause Keith and, finally, his name was left out in the open.

“May I have my tea please,” then with a calm smirk, “ _Lance?_ ”

“You _do_ know me. I-” he paused as if just now realizing the reality of the situation. “You read my name tag!”

“Yup.”

Lance groaned into his hand. “Damn it!” Then, with an accusatory finger in his face. “You tricked me!”

“Who? Me?” He reached for the cup only to have Lance pull back and hold it to his chest.

“No. You don't deserve this anymore.”

“I don't care if I deserve it. I paid for it. Give it back.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I'm disappointed, Keith.”

“Didn't know it mattered so much.”

“Of course it matters. How can we bond if you keep cheating?”

“I'm not cheating,” Keith protested, squashing the warm feeling in his chest at the mention of bonding with Lance. Their strange almost friendship was something Keith had never experienced with anyone else. He enjoyed their banter and Lance's convoluted way of caring for Keith (making fun of random professors to make Keith laugh when he was feeling down), and Lance's easy smile, and his laughter. Keith would have sworn out loud if he wasn't in such a public space. He couldn't deny his bond with Lance anymore than he could control the flush that was already working its way up his neck.

Curse Shiro for putting the idea in his head and curse himself for having a crush on the insufferable idiot. “You basically baited me into coming.”

“Yeah, but I didn't think you'd come and read my name tag!”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“You could have asked me and admitted defeat.”

“Not a chance,” Keith scoffed lightly. “ _You_ should have just introduced yourself. You knew that I didn't remember you.”

“Not at first,” Lance said sheepishly, “but I figured that you'd remember eventually.”

“But I didn't.”

“You didn't,” he agreed and Keith could see sadness rim the sweeping blue of Lance's eyes.

“So this was revenge?”

“In a way,” Lance shrugged and flashed what Keith had deemed to be a resting smile, “but you've gotta admit that this is a lot more interesting than if I just _told_ you who I was.”

“Hard to say.” Keith pretended to ponder the thought and laughed when he saw Lance pout. It was kind of cute. The chuckle died in his throat and he swallowed, realizing what exactly these answers meant. “I'm sorry.”

Lance blinked at him slowly. “What for?”

“For forgetting you. I didn't- I don't know- mean to?”

“Keith, buddy, all is forgiven. Don't even worry about it.”

“But-”

Lance clapped a hand on Keith's shoulder from across the counter. “Listen, you deserve the whole shebang. Do you care about hearing the whole story?”

“Is the whole story that when I came in here the first time, you figured out my name from my order?”

“Um. No!” Keith raised an eyebrow delicately. “Okay, so maybe it's most of it. You forgot the part where I thought you were cute and I joined sports teams to see you.”

“Oh.” Keith looked away, unsure, as always, what to do with himself after a compliments like that.

Lance misread Keith's embarrassment and tried, desperately, to back track. “Listen, about that-”

“No, I-”

“If you're uncomfortable-”

“I-”

“ _Lance_.” Both of them turned to the cashier who was shooting them daggers from their bright eyes. “Can you flirt with your boyfriend after your shift? There's only so much I can do on my own.”

“Yeah, okay. Just a couple more minutes.” Keith felt more glad that he ought to have at the fact that Lance had completely let the boyfriend comment slide.

“A couple more _seconds_ , Lance.”

“Fine.” When Lance looked back at Keith, the stain of red was on both their cheeks. “So, um, I've got to get back to work.”

“Yeah, you do. Your team can't have you slacking.”

“I'm not slacking,” Lance cried. “I'm the hardest working person on my team!”

“Bet you tell that to everyone.”

Lance shook his head. “No, I don't. And anyway, don't judge me. You don't know my struggle!”

“I don't,” agreed Keith, but he wanted to. He could only get so much out of Lance first thing in the mornings.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye then.” Lance appeared more mournful that usual.

“But I'm seeing you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but it's not the same now.”

“I'll see you tomorrow,” said Keith again, looking him straight in the eye. “So give me the tea.”

“But this is the longest conversation we've ever had! If I give it to you now, it's all over!”

“You're forgetting that we've talked almost every day for months. Excluding winter break of course.”

“And _you’re_ forgetting that week you ignored me for making fun of your mullet.”

“I'm not forgetting. I just decided not to mention it, idiot.”

“In the end, I apologized,” Lance reminded him.

“I know.”

“I even brought you flowers.”

Keith flushed again. He remembered that day with clarity. It hadn't been easy to avoid someone you'd routinely see day after day. People had commented on his hair cut before, but when the words had come out of Lance's mouth. They had stung more than they ought to have. Looking back on it now, it seemed clear that Keith was more than a little partial to what Lance thought of him. Unfortunately. “I know, Lance.”

“Oh.” Lance leaned over the counter, his blue eyes sparkling. “I've got an idea.”

“Do you?”

He nodded. “You should come see me tomorrow.”

“Why would I do that?”

“So we can talk more!” He held up the tea. “Plus, you get your daily tea. That's good, isn't it?”

Keith signed, his feelings a mixed-up mess. “How about I just see you after your shift tomorrow?” Keith asked. “At least that way you can buy me the tea I'm clearly not going to get today.”

“You'll get it!”

“After it gets cold in your hands? Yeah right. I want a fresh one.”

Lance blinked at him slowly, finally processing the offer as it had been intended. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“You don't have to go if you don't want to.”

“No, I want you. I mean, I want to. Bit of both, I guess,” Lance chuckled nervously at his slip up. “I can't believe you asked me first.”

“Are you kidding me? You're going to make this into a competition too?”

“No, but I really wanted to ask you out first,” he said sheepishly.

“Sucks for you. You should have asked earlier.”

“I didn't think you were going to say _yes_.”

“Fair point. What time do you get off work tomorrow?”

“Just after eight. I'll meet you back here?” The smile was still fixed on the idiot's face. It was a bit too endearing for Keith's tastes.

“With hot tea.”

“Right, yeah.”

“ _Lance_.”

Lance swiveled to face his co-worker. “Cool your jets, Pidge, I'll be there.”

“Not fast enough,” they grumbled. “I've got a life too. Leave Keith alone and get back here.”

“But Pidge!” whined Lance.

“You know me too?” asked Keith.

“Lance talks about you all the time.”

“Pidge!” squawked Lance.

“He likes your voice and your hair.”

“Pidge, no!”

“And he thinks you have a cute butt.”

“I'm going back,” said Lance, handing the cup to Keith in a mess of long tan fingers and a piece of paper with some writing on it. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Keith looked up at him, satisfaction and anticipation for what tomorrow would bring bringing a smile to his face. “Goodbye, _Lance_.”

“Bye, _Keith_.” Lance smirked. “Nice meeting you, you know, officially.”

He waved, walked out of the coffee shop, and wondered whether he should place Lance's number under the name “Ghost Boy”. After all, he wasn't going to forget him now.  


End file.
